


Run me through

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sylvain, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, dimivain, for these trying times, good old fashioned smut, little bit of possessive behavior, phd in sylvain studies, working on my thesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Sylvain sleeps around to fill the void, and Dimitri does not approve....In which, Sylvain finally gets some good dick.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 19
Kudos: 304





	Run me through

**Author's Note:**

> I offer yall my dimivain crumbs

Sylvain killed a man today. Skewered him through. Pierced by that awful lance. Humming, its orange glow gilded with fresh blood.

He scrubs himself raw when he returns from the battlefield, trying to wash away the stench of the blood he’s spilled. It never seems to go away. A reminder of the death toll at his hands and the precarious ledge in which his own life is perched upon. One wrong move and the one left choking his final breath in the dirt will be him.

Sylvain’s heart races, thudding in his chest like the beat of a hammer against steel. The heavy air of the sauna is dizzying. His forehead presses to the plank wood bench- mouth dropped open with a gasp, spit pooling past his lips.

The grip holding his hips in place is bruising. The pace punishing as he’s stretched around the cock of some guy he spoke to for maybe five minutes tops. Not that conversation matters much with these things now.

He groans and ruts back to drive him deeper, to feel that tension pulling in his body against the slap of skin. Sylvain’s eyes squeeze shut when the man snaps and stutters with a low moan. He spills hot inside him, and for once, he doesn’t see horrors in the darkness.

Sylvain cums soon after in his own shaky hand. The cum spilled between his fingers leaves him emptier than he’d hoped.

He sighs. There’s always next time.

His body groans, knees sore from digging into the wood for so long. He’s barely held together like one wrong touch and he’d crumble away. He doesn’t, and manages to drag himself to unsteady feet, back aching and bruises already forming fresh on his sides.

The door creaks open. His eyes snap to the direction of the sound. It’s the middle of the night. No one sane should be here. Ah-

He must be a sight. Dimitri stares at him wide-eyed, frozen on the spot. “Sylvain, you-“

The towel leaves little to the imagination, especially with lukewarm cum dripping down his thigh.

“Little busy, Your Highness.” He manages from his raw throat, moving to push past the man blocking the door.

Dimitri catches his arm. His grip dangerous as Sylvain has seen firsthand. A shiver shoots down his spine. The intensity of Dimitri’s blue eye on him is something he’s only seen spear in hand

“What are you-“

His voice makes Dimitri blink. He looks at him with new clarity. The tension pressed to Sylvain’s flesh releases as does the breath held in his chest. He tears himself away, leaving Dimitri standing absently in the doorway.

He rubs the spot on his arm, now red from Dimitri’s unintentional force.

It’s strange, Sylvain thinks later when he’s tugging on fresh clothes in the solitude of his old dorm. Dimitri’s always been a bit of a prude. Innocent, oblivious. It’s what he teased him for in years past. He has to know what he walked in on. It’s not like Sylvain hides it.

But-

The way he looked at him. Held him still. Sylvain is fully aware just what the man is capable of, seen him covered in blood, fangs bared, bones crushed under his bare hands. It makes his skin writhe with a kind of anticipation he thought long since stamped down.

 _Dammit_.

He groans, scratching at the back of his neck, over the hickeys and bite marks he wish were deeper.

Dimitri. Goddess, if he knew-

It’s not the first time he’s considered this. After their Millennium Festival reunion, seeing Dimitri for the first time in five years. A man only held together by the weight of sorrow and fury- more beast than man. Dimitri had grown taller, broader, stronger.

More volatile.

He was trapped to a fantasy, thinking to piss off the prince he once thought dead. To coax him to a fight. To have this new Dimitri claw at him, tear at him. To choke. To fuck. Chasing that raw desperation he craves.

Sylvain’s hand already skirts under the thin cotton of his shirt toying with the waist of his underwear, fingers teasing the line of hair there. His head rolls to the side, and he lets out a low sigh.

Fuck, earlier wasn’t enough.

He’d thought getting his brains fucked out would finally clear his mind, let him sleep. But he’s all brains intact, definitely not well-fucked, and more worked up than before. How cruel, Dimitri. To bump into him on accident, ruining his plans and leaving him wanting without even realizing what he’s done.

Terrible, but Sylvain has never made any claims to be a good man. His hand dives into his pants, slinking back against the mattress. Whatever. Cranking one out to one of his closest friends isn’t the worst thing he’s done today.

His eyes close to flashes of war. Of blood. Of corpses. It’s what he runs from each night when he seeks solace in the bodies of strangers. Tonight, it is not a nightmare but a stage. Left alone on the chaotic battlefield, he’s out of breath, bloodied, the Lance of Ruin gripped tight like a lifeline.

He wants-

No, needs, craves-

To be pushed down by that Dimitri he only sees now in the heat of battle. The one that is overcome, lost in the moment to rage and revenge. To have his armor torn from him, dented and cracked from the strength of that crest. A rare strength that’s enough to subjugate even him.

Sylvain licks his lips, tongue tracing the points of his teeth at the thought. His hand squeezes around the head of his swollen cock, swallowing back the gasp it pulls from him. He strokes himself, hips canting into his own fist with the soft thud of his bedframe against the wall.

“Dimitri-“ He mutters mostly to himself. Disappointing, he’d rather be left screaming it.

Sylvain’s hand cards through his bangs, pushing back against his forehead deep into the pillows. He chokes on a breath, and the repetition of the name of the man he’d rather bend him over in the sauna over some random mercenary.

His hand slips up his cock, dripping with slick precum. He can almost feel teeth against his throat- the way he wants it sharp, desperate, dangerous- the hot humidity of breath puffed against his cheek. A hand on his thigh. It tightens, nails digging into his flesh. Almost painful. Surreal, it feels too real.

His eyes shoot open, and his mouth drops aghast at the blue that blinks back at him.

Dimitri?

No, it must be a dream. Something someone slipped him or some of those herbs Marianne had. The pain of Dimitri’s nails, now leaving red crescents against his flesh, is enough to ground him that this is, in fact, reality. As mind boggling as it is. He must really have a death wish not noticing someone sneak into his room.

“Your door was unlocked.” Dimitri supplements in the dead silence of shock held between them. He’s breathless, hair falling messy and wet around his face. “I heard my name.”

“You-“ Sylvain’s heart races in his chest. Surprised, shocked? Anticipating? He can’t regain composure caged in by Dimitri’s massive body. Still damp from the steam of the sauna and flushed an attractive red from the heat.

“Sylvain,” His name, the sound of it in that raspier tone, when he knows Dimitri is clearly holding back, makes his dick jump against his palm. “You deserve more than someone who leaves you unsatisfied.”

“Is that advice or an offer?” He finally manages to say. Dimitri’s eye widens, a wilder look coming over him. His weight bears on him more. Heat radiates from his body. Oh. It’s what he wants. What he needs so, so bad.

“Can you, Dimitri?” Sylvain challenges.

He pushes himself to his elbows, into Dimitri’s face. He almost retracts in an instinctive move. He imagines Dimitri’s not had much in the way of intimacy, more used to violence in close quarters than pleasure.

“Dimitri.” Sylvain says again. Lips brush with the quiet utterance of his name. Dimitri is here. He heard him, knowing full well the state he’d be in after getting railed in the sauna, and came in anyways without a shred of decency or doubt. Watched him writhe, fuck his hand like some desperate whore.

Dimitri, Dimitri. Who knew he’d be drawn to him as well? He never would have guessed, thinking his desires were a pipe dream when the future king of Faerghus was its target. Sylvain’s hand slides up his thigh, ghosting the length of his cock in a teasing touch. He lets a low whistle, looking back to the prince who is mesmerized.

He smirks, an easy expression pulling across his lips now that the shock has waned and all he’s left with is the painstaking arousal that stabs him to the core.

“You don’t have to hold back with me.”

Dimitri’s gaze snaps, sharp as a blade and just as cutting. Sylvain is not prepared to be absolutely barreled into. His back hits the mattress full force with a loud thud, Dimitri’s hands on him ripping through his shirt like it’s nothing.

Dimitri kisses him once. It’s sloppy, ill practiced. For such a heartthrob back at the academy, it doesn’t surprise him in the least that his experience is lacking. Its endearing though. Sylvain has his jaw pinched between fingers forcing Dimitri’s mouth open. He licks along the pout of his lips, letting his tongue creep in.

Dimitri moans around it, hands pulling, scratching, and tugging at his body. Sylvain revels it, the scrape of nails, palms fumbling against muscle. His own drags Dimitri’s chest, through the dusting of blonde hair there, pinching and rubbing his nipples.

Dimitri pulls apart, just barely with a moan. His mouth shiny with saliva, a dark flush creeping up his neck. Sylvain’s gotten so used to people looking past him, it’s almost unnerving to have someone watching him with the kind of intensity Dimitri radiates. His hand covers Sylvain’s on his own cock, teasing the slit where its slick, urging his hand to part.

Dimitri’s breath falls hot against his cheek. “Were you trying to get me here? Leaving your door open? Seeing you used, fucked by some stranger who didn’t even have the decency to make you cum?

Damn, possessive much? Sylvain laughs in a strangled sound when his hand wraps around his dick, pumping him much slower than he had been before.

He had no idea. He just wanted to sleep. To fuck away the nightmares in the heat of exhaustion and orgasm. With Dimitri on him now, he’s sure sleep won’t be a problem.

“Glad someone cares about my well-being.”

“Sylvain,” Dimitri nuzzles his neck, mouthing sloppy kisses along his pulse. His tongue flicks across the muscle sucking sharp bruises over the marks left by the man prior. “I’ve always cared. I’m not the only one.”

He shudders a gasp when Dimitri’s hand moves lower. His fingers press behind his balls, rolling them against his palm and teasing his taint. He croons, thrusting against the touch.

“Ah, Dima-“ He urges. His own hand slipping back to his cock. “Go further.”

Dimitri listens and catches the rim of his hole with the tip of his finger. He’s already too sensitive there from his earlier fuck. Stretched, red and raw from another man’s dick. The remnants of his load left inside from what he didn’t clean out before.

Dimitri frowns.

“Don’t be a tease.” Sylvain complains.

“Don’t sleep around anymore.”

“What?” He exhales. Dimitri is two fingers deep, Sylvain’s insides still slick with cum. His chest rumbles with a groan that stills along with the prince’s torturous hand.

“You can’t-“ His fingers punch a breath out of him, stretching and digging at his prostate. “- ask that.”

“I am.”

“No. Not unless you’re offering to take their place.”

“If I can give you what you seek from strangers, I will.” Oof. How is this the same guy who would get all flustered at the mere thought of holding hands? Now he can say things like that with a straight face and a finger up his ass? Sylvain’s chest thuds. “If you’ll have me.”

Not much shuts him up, but Dimitri has managed to do it twice.

“Sylvain,” The raw intensity of his voice threatens to make him bust right there.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Dimitri’s eye narrows on him critically, cruelly curling his fingers against that spot to make Sylvain’s vision blur. He doesn’t even think Dimitri realizes what he’s doing to him.

“I think I do.”

Sylvain gasps low, spit pooling past his lips. His back arches, cock dripping in his hand, over his fingertips. It’s so sensitive like he might blow any minute. His eyes screw shut, head thrown back to the side, holding himself together. Barely. Barely.

“You’re going to make me cum like this.” He complains.

“Then cum, Sylvain. We have all night.”

Fuck.

It’s all he needs, and he shoots in his hand. It splatters across Dimitri’s chest, dripping back onto him in the space between them.

It takes a moment for his breath and brain to catch up, and by then, Dimitri is settled between his thighs, tacky with cum. He takes Sylvain’s softening cock in his mouth, drinking down what’s there. The heat of his mouth is pure velvet around him. His tongue and the hint of teeth draw dangerous over him, oversensitive and far too stimulated.

Dimitri pulls off with a wet sound, wiping the cum on his face with the back of his thumb. Sylvain watches in a sort of abject horror and arousal. He thinks he’s dead. That he died today on the battlefield. Unable to tell if this is heaven or hell, as tears prick the corners of his eyes.

“You’ve gotta fuck me, Dimitri.” He says in last ditch desperation. He’s going to go mad if he’s left hanging from this.

“Is that what you want?”

“You’re so goddamn hung. Do you even need to ask?” He’s so inexperienced but somehow Sylvain is the one ruined. Ha.

Dimitri makes a face, unused to people commenting about his body. Not exactly a safe bet making lewd comments to a future king. Sylvain, unlike most, has never held much concern over his own safety.

“Don’t think I haven’t looked. Doesn’t take much to see the royal secret your packing.”

“Sylvain,” He admonishes with a sort of pained embarrassment he thought Dimitri would be past considering he just made him cum.

Sylvain winks. “Too late to be shy about it now. You’ve got to put that dick to good use.”

He hooks a leg around his waist to pull him flush. The thick line of Dimitri’s cock presses to his thigh beneath the fabric of his clothes.

He’s quick to pull at the buttons, urging Dimitri from the rest of his clothes. His thighs are covered in scars much like the rest of him. Sylvain absently traces the pocked skin before fishing underneath his bed for something.

“What-“

Sylvain pours it into his hands, warming oil in his palms.

“Sorry, but I’m not deep enough in my masochistic streak to take you dry.” He says, stroking Dimitri’s dick with the substance. Dimitri stiffens at the contact, shoulders going rigid. His teeth bite into his lower lip watching Sylvain’s hand run the length of his dick in slow motions.

He’s thick, that’s for sure. Bigger than most men Sylvain has taken. It’s exciting, really. He always thought Dimitri was the type of guy to be packing, too nice and well-mannered on the surface. Of course, he’d be the one to have a big dick. Karma and all that. Sylvain’s not complaining.

When he finally coaxes Dimitri inside him, it’s painfully, excruciatingly slow as Sylvain’s body adjusts to the girth stretching him out. Dimitri’s mouth drops in a low pant, eye glazed over not really _seeing_ Sylvain underneath him.

He can understand. It’s probably been a long time since he’s got his dick wet, if even at all.

“Take it slow.” Sylvain tells him. “Wait for me to adjust. I do need to be somewhat useful tomorrow.”

Dimitri nods, and Sylvain takes a breath, deep in his chest.

“Saint fucking Seiros.” He curses when Dimitri is fully seated, stretched past his limits with a burn that he relishes. Each breath feels like it drives him deeper, so deep he could fucking choke on it.

Dimitri snorts in barely masked amusement

Sylvain can’t manage a laugh.

“Don’t blame me. Your cock is blasphemous.”

Sylvain is the first to move, rocking himself through his adjustment. Goddess, it is better. So much better. If he knew Dimitri would be this receptive, he would have propositioned him earlier instead of wasting his time with mediocre lays.

Dimitri is tense, shoulders hunched over him, muscles pulled taut. His fists tear into Sylvain’s sheets, ripping holes him them. He’s restraining himself. Exactly what Sylvain does not want- trying not to push Sylvain into some painful predicament. Pain that Sylvain would easily welcome as long as his bones remained intact.

He pats Dimitri’s thigh, looking up to him.

“I don’t want something nice. You don’t either. Do you, Dimitri? You don’t have to be so careful. Let go. I know you need it too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I know what I’m saying.” His lips quirk into a grin parroting what Dimitri told him earlier. Dimitri recognizes it, and the surprising honesty left on his face. It is nice for once, not to be performative during sex.

Sylvain is pulled by the calf, shifting his center of gravity as it is thrown over Dimitri’s shoulder. The breath is taken from him, left choking back on his own spit at the new angle when Dimitri thrusts in.

Sylvain moans, filled to the brim so deeply he can hardly process it. His hands grip for purchase against the bed- giving him something to ground him amidst it all- gasping as Dimitri slides out. It leaves him despondently empty only to slam back with an energy and intent he thinks entirely wild.

Dimitri pulls him closer the grip on his hip bruising as he spears Sylvain on his dick.

“Dimi-“Its barely torn from his throat before devolving into a deep moan. The ridge of his cock hits his prostate, milking the pleasure from him with constant friction. Sylvain rides it. Its intense. His hand trembles, reaching for his cock. It’s long since hard, curved towards his stomach, bouncing with each thrust. He jerks himself fast to the pace Dimitri’s set.

“Sylvain, you’re so-“ Dimitri pants. His face is red, bangs stuck messy to his face. Sylvain wants to brush them away. “It’s incredible.

He doesn’t think he’s ever got such an endearing compliment during sex. It almost be funny if he wasn’t getting plowed into the mattress.

His arm curls around the base of Dimitri’s neck to pull him down into an awkward position. Sylvain steals a kiss. His teeth bite against tongue when he moans against Dimitri’s mouth. He hears him utter his name, a strained string of broken syllables between his own punched breath.

Dimitri’s forehead tips, pressed close to his. Breath shared between them, mouth dropped in a moan as he cums. It splashes warm inside him, and its not long until he’s the one spasming around Dimitri’s cock, his own seed spilling over a second time across his stomach.

Sylvain stays like that. A bit dazed, Dimitri’s heavy body collapsed on top of him. His sides sting, fresh with scratches from Dimitri’s hands, marred red and irritated across his waist. It doesn’t matter. He’s warm, full, and for once not left alone in his post orgasm haze.

He tried to convince himself that he liked being detached. Though, there is something to be said for attachment too.

“Dude, you’ve got to move. My arms falling asleep.” Sylvain earns a small grumble, but Dimitri does eventually extract himself. It leaves Sylvain empty, dripping across ruined sheets.

Damn.

Dimitri lies next to him, content to staying in Sylvain’s bed.

Sylvain rolls over. The light from the moon streaks across blonde hair. It’d be nice, if he wasn’t so concerned tomorrow might be their last.

“Sylvain.” Dimitri says quiet amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“Don’t go to anyone else for this.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ tumblr ](https://auriadne.tumblr.com/)   
>  [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/celesttea_)


End file.
